


Early Beginnings

by MagicRobot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Original Character(s), Premature Birth, Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicRobot/pseuds/MagicRobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Partial Sequel to 'Baby Panic.' In which Bumper is born earlier than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Beginnings

The sparkling was so tiny - far smaller than average. As to be expected when one was born nearly three orns before his expected due date. The prognosis wasn’t good, either. Ratchet has assured him that they would try their best to keep him alive, but there was more than an eighty percent chance of death. As good as the CMO was, the fact remained that the mechlet simply wasn’t developed enough.

Cyclonus sat rigid in his seat, next to where the sparkling slept. An incubator surrounded the form, regulating his breathing and spark condition. His plating was pale and fragile looking, more a bundle of wires than a mech. Of the fully formed plating, splices of purple stuck out. There was no mistaking who the Sire was now, and Cyclonus felt guilty for ever doubting Tailgate.

Next to the incubator lay Tailgate, recharging peacefully after a grueling emergence. His spark had fissured, disrupting the newspark and triggered the emergence protocols.

In the beginning, Ratchet had waned about about the strain on his spark from carrying. Tailgate’s spark was too frail from his time spent under Cybertron. But Tailgate had been determined and Ratchet had cautioned him to be very careful. In the end, despite all of Tailgate’s care, sparkling and Carrier had nearly died.

The incubator beeped ominously. So far, the sparkling’s vitals were stable. His spark frequency was a bit off, but it was nothing to be alarmed by. Cyclonus kept a careful vigil by the bedside, just in case. His optics remained trained on the little one. The sparkling didn’t move, aside from the sporadic movements of his vent fans. He was so small - so much smaller than what was to be expected. Coupled with the overwhelming frailty, Cyclonus felt the powerful urge to protect his sparkling by any means necessary.

Lost in thought, Cyclonus barely registered the rustling on the berth. He did, however, note the curious mumbles coming from the area. Tailgate wasn’t set to come around for a quite some time. Cautiously, Cyclonus looked to the berth. The mumbling grew louder the instant he did so. So, with a bit of reluctance, Cyclonus padded over to the berth, the incubator still kept securely in his peripheral.

The minibot’s visor was beginning to  turn a dull blue hue. Pain emitted from his EM field in short bursts. He whimpered at every pulse, curling into himself to somehow escape the pain. The action only seemed to escalate the pain. More of the strange mumbles came from his vocalizer. It took Cyclonus a while to realize that Tailgate was uttering his name.

Cyclonus’ engine rumbled. Before Tailgate could cause an damage to himself, Cyclonus grasped his limp servo, squeezing it gently. Tailgate’s visor lit up brightly, the light illuminating his face. He squeezed back weakly.

"C-Cyclonus." Tailgate’s vocalizer was weak. The visor flickered for a second. Cyclonus feared that he would fall back in unconsciousness. There came a deep vent.

"Is…I…where?" The drugs were still very much playing with his systems as struggled to articulate.

Taking pity on him, cyclonus said, “he’s fine.” He dreaded going into specifics.

A puff of relieved air came from Tailgate. His systems finally recalibrated enough for him to ask the dreaded question, “where is he?”

Cyclonus paused, debating briefly with himself before stepping out of Tailgate’s way. A look of confusion passed over the minibot’s face. His gaze lingered on the flier. Then his optics took in the sight that Cyclonus had been blocking and his spark nearly broke.

His vents hitched. “Can I…Can I hold him?” Tailgate looked up at Cyclonus imploringly.

"Not at the moment," said Cyclonus, his voice not giving away any of the tumultuous emotions roiling through his processor.

The little servo seemed to quiver in Cyclonus’ servo. Silence fell upon them. Tailgate took the time to study the slumbering sparkling, his processor a whirlwind of worry. He wanted to cry, but managed to keep himself from doing so. He reminded himself that Ratchet was a miracle worker - everything will be alright. It had to be.

The silence of unsettling. Tailgate was rarely ever this quiet. Cyclonus didn’t comment. Instead, he took the time to study Tailgate’s frame. The fissure had been repaired and a long weld scar ran across Tailgate’s chest. He was slated to make a full recovery, however, the scar would become a permanent fixture for an extended period of time. Cyclonus liked to think of it as a battle wound. Tailgate was as brave as any warrior that Cyclonus had ever met, after all.

Tailgate craned his neck to see through the incubator. A puff of laughter came from him. “He looks like you.” He gave Cyclonus a pointed look.

The guilt from earlier consumed Cyclonus. Yet, his apology caught in his throat. Tailgate waved him off, almost contentment shining in his visor. “I can’t wait to hold him.”

Tailgate’s optimism was infectious. Cyclonus nodded in agreement.


End file.
